I somehow managed to drink 7 beers tonight (one Grolsch and six Bass Ales) and not have a total fit regarding my lack of tobacco ingestion (read the post below, can ya? It's far more important--but not interesting). Futhermore, I did not CRAVE a smoke with every beer--my usual ratio. To be sure, I had much love and back-slaps and encouragement from the IRC crew, including Those Who Have Gone Before.
However, what resulted was a huge buzz, not only alcohol-induced, but also one that played havoc with my neuro-receptors, which are so used to that dopamine release. I admit it, I was totally off my axis. What other reason (and my first attempt at typing "reason" resulted in "easopmn") could there be for me playing The Jackhammer--HARD--three times in the $17K on Full Tilt. What other reason (and my second attempt at typing "reason" resulted in "reaosnlo") could there be for me going 3 for 3 with The Jackhammer in the $17K on Full Tilt. I CALLED with it twice from a blind with a miniscule M and caught on the river both times (a gutshot 6 and a J to beat TT). The third push got the blinds and antes (yes, I showed).
So here I sit, may fingers numb somehow, in a giddy mood, wondering if staying home from work and pulling weeds and then drinking A LOT is a bad thing, or if physically drinking alone is technically drinking alone if you're chatting with a dozen degenerates, wonderful degenerates who make you laugh every minute and drop you a line of poker wisdom or a physiological definition of your current condition when you're wondering What. The. Fuck. that bet means and...
I ramble. I babble. I realize my TV is tuned to some New York sports talk show and, even in my present state, I realize I am infinitely more lucid than 90% of the dingbats currently talking about the Knicks. The Knicks?
I won a token. I parlayed it into a 30th-place finish in the $17K. I haven't smoked. Or smoken. April, Glyph, drizz, Alan, byron, Shane, gracie, Chadillac and Ryan helped keep me--it--together.